


they came in peace

by justsomejerk



Series: Let Alex Manes Bang the Dorky Pocket-Sized Historian 2k20 (aka Alex + Forrest) [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes Deserves Nice Things, Discussions of sex, Forrest POV, Forrest Unironically Supports Community Theatre, M/M, Past Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, References to Alex's PTSD/Panic Attacks, Written Pre-2x08, lots of making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomejerk/pseuds/justsomejerk
Summary: Forrest and Alex have been dating for a month and Forrest just want to make sure they're on the same page.
Relationships: Forrest Long/Alex Manes
Series: Let Alex Manes Bang the Dorky Pocket-Sized Historian 2k20 (aka Alex + Forrest) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724929
Comments: 20
Kudos: 82





	they came in peace

**Author's Note:**

> The continuing (mostly) fluffy adventures of Forrest and Alex dating.

“It’s called _They Came In Peace_.” Forrest is stifling a laugh as he reads from the program in his hand.

Alex looks up from the pasta sauce he’s stirring only to roll his eyes. “ _Please_ be kidding me, Long.”

Forrest holds it up so Alex can take a look at the ClipArt-esque design of the program for a community theatre play he has decided they’re attending tonight. “You’re the one who believes in aliens.”

“I never said I believe in aliens.”

“Yet you were _very_ involved in helping your ex research them.” Forrest shrugs his shoulders and raises an eyebrow at him knowingly. 

Alex shakes his head and mutters, “I was being supportive.”

Forrest giggles as he tosses the program aside and pads over to him, where he is hunched over the simmering pots and pans, a rather stressed-out expression on his face. He suspects Alex doesn’t cook for many people and might be regretting the offer. 

Hoping to extend some comfort, he snakes an arm around him, resting it lightly on his right hip and raises himself by his toes to set his chin on Alex’s shoulder and whisper: “Admit it, Alex. I’ve convinced you of my Nazi theory.”

Alex offers only a withering scowl in response before he dips a spatula in the sauce and holds it up for Forrest to taste. 

Their faces are only inches apart and he takes the opportunity to tease the guy who he wants to call his boyfriend but isn’t quite certain he can yet. Still resting his chin on his shoulder, he locks eyes with him and opens his mouth wide, coyly curling his lips up at the corners.

Alex meets his gaze with a neutral mask, seemingly unaffected by his flirting. Over the past month of dates, Forrest has come to recognize his expert poker face as a byproduct of his military background. He’s brilliant at maintaining a straight face even while Forrest is helplessly cracking up or shamelessly flirting. It can be a bit frustrating at times, not knowing what is going through his mind, but so gratifying in the moments when Alex chooses to let it fall away.

After taste-testing the sauce and murmuring a compliment, Alex turns to strain the pasta as Forrest perches on a stool nearby and sips wine. “Seven dates, and I still haven’t cracked that poker face of yours. But I’m definitely getting closer.”

Alex side-eyes him as he grabs plates from a cupboard. “Oh, you’ve got an entire strategy mapped out, do you? Good luck with that. And for someone keeping track of our dates, you’re doing a poor job. We’ve been on five.”

“Wrong!” Forrest beams in response and begins checking off a list in the air with a flourish of his wrist. “Paintball, the miniatures museum, that Saturday at the farmers market when Buffy curled up on your leg too long, it fell asleep, and we had to stay until you could walk again–I’m not sorry about that, by the way, Buffy has never been this comfortable with someone new and she doesn’t trust easily–that day at the Crashdown-”

“That wasn’t a date! We ran into each other by accident and you stole a few too many sips from my milkshake before running off to beat Guerin to the microfiche reader.” Alex is chuckling as he plates their dinner.

“We shared a beverage, Alex–that’s _obviously_ a date. And I flirted with you in front of your waitress friend! I would have stayed longer and gotten to know her more, but Michael has gotten meaner since finding out about us so he tends to hog the machine until closing time now if he sees me hovering.” He can see the frown lines appear on Alex’s forehead at the mention of Michael, so he continues. “And then the afternoon we jammed here and started writing a bit for open mic night-”

“I haven’t agreed to that.”

“You will!” Forrest offers a confident smile. “The night Wyatt left me outside city hall without a ride home just because I called him out as a homophobe in front of his dad and the mayor-”

“I just happened to spot you and gave you a drive home!”

“Yeah, and I will never be more grateful for your late nights at the base because I got to see you in your uniform–has anyone told you how hot you are in it? There’s this _thing_ you do with your hips when you walk in it-” He lets the heat drift into his tone as he makes a show of looking Alex up and down, pausing here and there in appreciation. He tilts his head with a smile when Alex can only roll his eyes with flushed cheeks in response. “Anyway, Buffy forced you out of your car for a few minutes of snuggles in the doorway _and_ I successfully got you to make out with me against your car. Sounds like a _date_ to me.”

Alex licks his lips as he sits down in the stool next to him and sets down their plates. “You’re the worst.”

“Yet you keep agreeing to more dates. Number seven tonight!”

“Do you really think forcing me to watch community theatre will actually lead to number eight?” 

“You don’t fool me, Alex Manes. You like me so much more than you’d planned to.”

Alex frowns at that. “What does that mean?”

Forrest bites his lip, realizing he maybe shouldn’t have added that last part. He grabs the freshly grated parmesan and starts sprinkling it over his pasta to avoid the question.

“Forrest?”

He sighs, shifts slightly on his stool to look at Alex as he responds. “It’s just- it’s become obvious that whatever you had with Michael wasn’t quite over when we met. And I’m not saying it had to be or anything, the timing can’t be helped. Maybe your heart wasn’t quite in this when we first met, but I feel like maybe it is now. Regardless of whatever you still feel for him.”

He both sees and feels the deep breath Alex takes next. That’s something else he’s quietly noted–the way Alex centers himself in overwhelming moments. 

“Forrest, I-” Alex appears to shake himself, as if recalibrating before he can continue. “I’ve never had a real relationship. I’ve never dated, not like this. The thing with Michael has always been so complicated…” He trails off, his eyes darting from his hands to the counter to Forrest’s chest. Forrest can see the moment he steels himself because his features sharpen and he looks him in the eye. “I really like you. I like dating you. I, um, I actually didn’t realize dating could be this fun. Is that stupid?”

Forrest smiles gently at the uncertainty on his face as he asks the question. “Not at all. Growing up queer can be hard enough, but doing it in Roswell, with _your_ dad, then in the Air Force during DADT? I know plenty of people who feel like they’re playing catch-up later in life, doing all the fun ‘normal’ things everyone else took for granted. You’re in really good company.” 

Alex’s responding smile is shy yet sincere in its gratitude. He leans in to offer a quick peck, but Forrest catches his chin between two fingers, holding on gently to deepen the kiss. A small moan escapes Alex’s throat as Forrest slides his tongue across his lower lip. Their knees bump against one another as Alex reaches down and squeezes Forrest’s thighs in each palm, following the slow rhythm of their mouths moving together. They exchange unhurried kisses and touches for a few minutes before Alex breaks away, insisting they eat so they’re not late to the theatre. Forrest groans, eyes still closed and a hand stubbornly remaining on Alex’s knee, making his frustration known, but Alex simply gives him one more peck before laughing and digging in. 

*

Afterwards, they indulge in banter about the pro-alien sentiment of the play, Alex begrudgingly admitting it was surprisingly well-done and Forrest teasing him about being low-key elitist about art despite stubbornly defending his love for mediocre pop-punk like Danger! At The Picture Show.

In what has become something of a pattern, they soon find themselves parked in Alex’s driveway, having a particularly heated makeout session, complete with foggy windows. Alex is practically gnawing at the skin under his ear, all tongue and teeth, while Forrest claws at the thin fabric of his sweater and moans low. Being with Alex always has Forrest’s senses on edge, his skin tingling and begging to be touched. He’s almost certain he’s never been this horny since he was sixteen years old, and he and his closeted lab partner would jerk each other off over open textbooks. 

Except for the part where Forrest has yet to even get his hands on Alex’s dick, because Alex always conveniently ends their dates before they can reach that step.

“Do you think we could move this somewhere a bit more comfortable?” Forrest’s eyes drift over Alex’s shoulder to his front door.

Forrest’s hands are tangled in the hem of his sweater, in the middle of making their way to find the warm skin underneath when he realizes his words have caused Alex’s body to tense up. It’s a habit he’s been clocking each time since the panic attack on their first date, making a list in his mind of Alex’s triggers so he knows how to avoid them and, more importantly, how to soothe him. Alex slowly pulls away, ceasing contact and settling in the passengers’ seat again, staring forward vacantly.

Hoping he can salvage this moment, Forrest starts babbling. “You know what? I actually love making out in cars. I haven’t done it in a long time, it’s like being a teenager again. Or for the first time.” He watches Alex’s profile, trying to inject some levity into his voice to get a reaction. 

He sees Alex’s eye twitch almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry, it’s getting late. I should go.” His voice is distant, hollow. It stings to hear the stark change in him seconds after they were so wrapped up in one another.

“Alex. Please stay, just for a minute. Can we take a moment to just breathe before you go?” He reaches out but stops short of touching him. 

He sighs, crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you want from me. I told you I needed to take things slow.” He is defensive now, and Forrest doesn’t entirely blame him. He did indeed make an offhand comment about taking things slow that Saturday at the farmers’ market. He just hadn’t realized at the time that ‘slow’ meant fucking _glacial_.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I guess I just want to make sure we’re still on the same page. That you’re not, I don’t know, trying to let me down easy?” 

Alex turns to face him, his expression softening slightly. “We’re on the same page, Forrest. I really like you, I want to keep seeing you, I just-” He sighs and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m just really fucked up.”

“If that’s true, you’re exactly the kind of fucked up I like.”

At that line, Alex looks at him. Really _looks_ at him, as though scrutinizing his sincerity. His eyes zero in on Forrest’s mouth and linger. His gaze is heavy until it travels up his face, his growing smile slowly reaching his eyes. Seizing the moment, Forrest clears his throat in the overwhelming silence of the car, and speaks. “Also, you may not have picked up on this, but I have a deep well of patience. I’m happy to go as slow as you need. Eager, even.” He says with a teasing smile, yet the earnestness shines through. He reaches for Alex’s hand and this time he allows it to be taken. “I just really fucking like you, Alex. You’re snarky as hell, brilliant–though you’ll never acknowledge that–you’ve clearly been through hell in your life but you’re still just so _kind_. It kind of drives me crazy that you don’t seem to see these things in yourself. But look, I can go as goddamn slow as you need, okay? I’m not going _anywhere._ ”

The dim glow of the fairy lights lining Alex’s house reach far enough to highlight his profile, and Forrest can see his eyes have watered at his words. He gives him a moment to take a few deep breaths, all the while loosely holding his hand in both of his. He looks down to watch his own thumb kneading into Alex’s palm with a slow, soothing cadence. Only when Alex turns back to him does he offer an encouraging smile. 

“I wanna see where _you_ live. Would you cook next time?” 

The hope in his voice sends Forrest’s heart soaring, and he rushes to utter an emphatic _absolutely_ before pulling him in for a relieved kiss. 

Forrest can still feel the warm breath on his cheek and his lips on his own when Alex pulls back, steps out of the car and declares with eyes bright, “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just an FYI, I will be expanding on Alex's reticence to get physical in the next fic and it will involve discussions of 2x06.


End file.
